


Christmas Eve Eve

by ninamazing



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 21:38:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninamazing/pseuds/ninamazing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Angela Rizzoli thought her daughter would quietly accept the prospect of two nights in a row with irritating cousins, insane aunts, and brothers fighting over everything from tree ornaments to who would have to drive out for more beer—well, then Angela was making the wrong holiday wish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Eve Eve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CaitN](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaitN/gifts).



Birthday headaches were in fact small potatoes compared to holiday headaches, Jane decided as she tossed her work shirt to the floor and pulled a Bruins jersey over her head instead. If Angela Rizzoli thought her daughter would quietly accept the prospect of two nights in a row with irritating cousins, insane aunts, and brothers fighting over everything from tree ornaments to who would have to drive out for more beer—well, then Angela was making the wrong holiday wish. Christmas Eve and Christmas morning, that was the deal, and then Jane could drive back to her quiet apartment for a nap that with any luck would last until New Year's.

Jane padded to her door, crime-scene vigilance kicking in instinctively, and turned the deadbolt. Just in case. Presents were bought, she'd agreed to come over tomorrow at noon to help cook, and the Homicide party at Doyle's had left her several shots short of a clear head. There was no way she was going to interact with one more person today.

Knock, knock.

"Jane? Are you in there? It's just me. Maura."

"Of course it is." Jane sighed, and for some reason—probably all the Sam Adams in her system—she smiled and unlocked the door. Maura stood in her hallway in a long red coat and sparkling earrings that made her look like some kind of Holiday Queen; Jane had a brief vision of dorky Dr. Isles flying over snowed-in villages, waving a tiara and tossing down gifts to the eager hands of children.

"What're you doing here? I thought you were on a date ..." Jane covered her mouth and gasped. "Maura! Did you lie to my mother to get out of Rizzoli Christmas Eve Eve? You can stay here. I'll never tell."

"No! I'd never do that! In fact it sounded really lovely ..."

"All right, get out."

"Come on!" Only Maura could switch so quickly from indignance to seeming desperation. The doctor put her hand up to stop Jane shoving the door closed, and stepped inside.

"Pajamas only," said Jane as she walked to the kitchen. Maura shut the door and followed.

"Rizzoli holiday rule?"

"My rule." Jane grinned. "My general rule. So if you want to stay, you'll have to borrow something of mine so I don't feel uncomfortable just looking at you."

Maura slipped out of her heels and coat to reveal a matching pair of lavender silk scrubs. Jane's mouth dropped open.

"These good enough?" Maura asked, with that proud, crazy little smile.

"I'll say. You wore those in surgery?"

"Of course not. They were a gift from another doctor at the end of my residency. Actually ..." She stopped talking, and shook her head.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's nothing. So are you going to offer me a drink? Now that I'm in the proper wardrobe?"

Jane eyed her a little longer than usual, but didn't press. "Well, I think you'll be glad to know that I actually have champagne fit to drink for a woman of your stature."

Maura laughed. "Stature? Don't you mean—"

"No, really. I bought it in Back Bay for about a half of my monthly take-home pay, so I think you'll approve."

"I won't even ask which _département_ it's from."

"Good, 'cause God knows what that means. It's for tomorrow, but I was going to save a bottle or two for myself anyway."

"I like your plan." Maura curled up on a stool and leaned over the counter, watching the bottle. She wasn't sitting up straight—she was hugging her arms to her chest, and her gaze was just unfocused enough that Jane could tell. It wasn't nothing. _Something_ was going wrong, and a tiny vestige of holiday spirit wormed its way into Jane's heart. On Christmas Eve Eve, at least, Maura shouldn't be troubled by anything.

"You don't mind drinking with me?" Maura asked. "I mean—just—weren't you at Doyle's with everybody tonight?"

"Now, don't challenge me to a competition. You know I could handle it. First one to throw up's the loser."

Maura looked disgusted.

Jane snorted. "I'm _kidding_! You know I could, though."

Maura waved a hand. "Sure, I know."

"OK, _now_ you're scaring me." Jane stopped twisting the wire of the champagne cage and met Maura's eyes. "That is the first time you've ever admitted off-the-top to not winning at _anything_. I think."

Maura grinned wryly.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"It's not serious, it's ... it's nothing, really."

"You did have a date."

Maura looked away, then back. "Yes. With ... well, with the doctor who gave me these scrubs, actually. We used to see each other, years and years ago. And it ended quickly, and it was confusing, and I thought that it was because I was young and I'd made a mistake—I thought that if we saw each other again, that I'd be able to figure out what it was that I'd done ... I could recreate the scene, you know? Because memory of course is imperfect, and _incredibly_ subjective—"

"Yeah. Especially of breakups."

"—And I just wanted to find out, I just wanted to _know_ ... I wanted to know why we made it work for so long and then we didn't. Why he opted out of—me. Why I let him leave."

"And did you figure it out?"

"No." Maura picked up an empty glass and twirled the stem in her fingers, experimentally. "I don't think I'll ever be able to collect enough data to make sense of it all. I should have kept better records in my twenties."

"That's the thing with you." Jane's lips twitched as she regarded her friend, and she shook her head slowly. Even when Maura felt completely helpless, she exuded elegance. Like some kind of Louis Vuitton lighthouse.

"What? What's the thing with me?"

"You never stop. You're tireless. I don't think you could ever turn off a single part of your ridiculously active brain, even if you tried. It's frightening, really."

"So I frighten people." The glass was still in Maura's fingers.

"No, of course n—well, you're frightening when you want to be, that's for damn sure. People _should_ be frightened. But no, Maura, what I'm saying—what I'm saying is that they just don't get it. I can see all those little gears spinning in your brain and I think maybe I should be scared of you but I'm not. Because you're analyzing this to death and all I can think is how adorable you are. How loving, how sweet. Whoever this guy was, whatever did happen, it's just one of those things. It's life. But he missed out, because you're here with me drinking champagne, and there is no one I'd rather spend Christmas Eve Eve with. There is no one else like you in the world, Maura, because the world can't handle two of you. That's just the price of being fantastic. Don't overthink it."

Maura was silent for a long moment, blushing and breathing unevenly on the other side of the counter. Then she took a deep breath and looked up at her friend and smiled so hard she outshone her earrings.

"So are we drinking champagne, then?"

Jane passed her the bottle. "I'm betting you know how to open this better than me."


End file.
